Hm. Maybe I should have Admiral T’Nira on the tribunal instead of Brand.
Dax, naturally, went on at great length about all the Dax symbiont had accomplished, in her usual arrogant tone. Of course, Keogh was able to dash that argument as well. After all, Jadzia Dax was a different person—that was why she had to go through the Academy, achieve the rank of lieutenant. The accomplishments of the other hosts of the Dax symbiont were not relevant to the proceedings.
Keogh took special pleasure in the mental image of Dax returning forlornly to her seat from the witness stand after that, carrying the same look on her face that he himself had had two-and-a-half decades ago when Curzon Dax barged in on him in the rec deck.
The verdict came down: guilty.
Then he saw it through the viewport: the Odyssey.
At last, Keogh thought. Now maybe something will get accomplished.
“So, Orta, when are you going to tell the truth?”
Keogh blinked. This was Kira talking. The captain noted that she, too, had spied the Galaxy-class ship’s presence nearby and, as soon as she did, she smiled. What is going on here?
“What makes you think I haven’t told the truth, Nerys?” Orta asked.
Dax spoke up before Kira could. “Because we’ve seen your type before. You think the Federation is as bad as Cardassia, and you’re trying to get rid of us by blowing up a Bajoran moon with a Federation runabout. You figure that’ll be enough to get the Federation out of Bajor.”
“Is that what you think?” Orta said with a sneer.
“It won’t work,” Dax said. “With the wormhole there, the Federation won’t pull out easily.”
Orta’s laugh was chillingly sterile. “They already did once, when the Circle threatened your precious space station. I’m quite sure they could be convinced to do so again, given the right circumstances. But you’re wrong. You’re forgetting the prophecy.”
Then Kira did something that shocked Keogh: she laughed.
She laughed very long and very hard.
Keogh, Orta, and Dax all looked at her as if she was slightly demented—certainly Keogh was starting to believe that.
“Something amuses you, Nerys?” Orta asked. That got Keogh’s attention, because the smug, supercilious tone was gone. Now Orta sounded angry.
Keogh wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“When are you going to tell us the truth, Orta? The real truth. Not what you wanted me to believe, and not what Dax thinks you’re doing.”
Dax blinked. “Excuse me?”
Keogh took a certain satisfaction out of the hurt look on Dax’s face.
Kira, though, ignored her. “Come on, Orta, I know you. Hell, I used to be you. You don’t want peace. If you did, you’d have been the first person to come back home, not the last. You’ve been sitting in that cave on Valo IX waiting for the war to start up again—hoping and praying to gods you don’t even believe in that the Cardassians were kidding. That they’d come back so you could blow up more of their ships and depots and outposts. And, after two years, when that didn’t happen, you figured you’d manufacture your own war.”
Keogh looked aghast at Kira. “He wants to start a war with the Federation? That’s insane.”
In a low voice, Orta said, “That’s what they told us about fighting the Cardassians, Captain.”
It took Keogh a moment to find his voice. “Is she right? Is this what you plan?”
“I have obtained a weapon of mass destruction, Captain. Its purpose is to destroy—not to push.” Again, the smile. “Except, perhaps in a metaphoric sense.”
“So that nonsense about the prophecy was—?” He let the question hang.
Orta shrugged. “A way to convince you that my motives were pure. I knew that Nerys was one of the devout, so she was likely to believe me—and having the lieutenant support me was an added bonus.”
Kira laughed again. “You’re an idiot, Orta. You always were.”
“You think so?”
Keogh said, “You damn well sound like one. Do you have any idea of the consequences of your actions? Shifting the moon’s orbit was deadly enough—to actually destroy it will cause uncounted changes to Bajor, none of them for the good. The planet’s entire ecosystem will be thrown off-kilter. The planet’s barely recovered from the Cardassians. You won’t be starting a war, you’ll be committing genocide.”
“Bajor survived Cardassia’s occupation, Captain,” Orta said. “I survived having my throat cut. For that matter, Qo’noS survived Praxis’s destruction eighty years ago. Your attempts to frighten me are fruitless.”
“Don’t even bother, Captain,” Kira said with disdain. “You’ll never convince him. Go ahead, Orta, fire up your weapon. See how much good it does you.”
“Major!” Keogh barked. He couldn’t believe this fool woman was encouraging him to destroy the moon. And why the hell is the Odyssey just sitting out there? Why don’t they do something?
“Computer,” Orta said slowly. “Fire the weapon.”
Then the entire runabout went dark.
“All systems on the Rio Grande read dead, Joe,” Gonzalez said from the ops station. Then she turned and looked at the command center, smiling. To Sisko, she said, “Looks like you were right, Commander.”
Jason Talltree couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been sure that the whole thing was a waste of time, that they needed to disable the runabout and then beam a team on board. He didn’t expect some Bajoran Militia thug like this Odo person to understand the niceties of Starfleet General Orders, but Talltree knew that they had to capture the artifact. And that was what he’d do.
He had not expected things to be this easy.
Turning to Odo, he asked, “What, exactly, just happened?”
The Deep Space 9 security chief turned his disquieting gaze upon his Odyssey counterpart. The constable had what looked like an unfinished face—it was almost uncomfortable to look at. Odo was a shape-changer, and Talltree wondered if he chose so bizarre a facial structure as an intimidation tactic. If so, he found himself admiring it.
“Security, Mr. Talltree,” Odo said. “I don’t know if you’ve kept abreast of activity in the DMZ, but the ranks of the Maquis are growing—particularly with Starfleet personnel,” he added with a disdain that Talltree thought unfair. “On DS9, we devised a security protocol to keep our runabouts out of Maquis hands. The security codes were changed, but the old codes still work—after a fashion. A coded message is sent, embedded in the power signature so the saboteurs won’t detect it. Normal operation of the runabout proceeds unless the library computer is accessed, or any defensive systems or the warp drive go online.”
Talltree nodded. “If they do, the runabout shuts down.”
O’Brien put in, “The idea’s to keep any thieves in place until a Starfleet vessel can pick ’em up.”
“An excellent idea,” Shabalala said, “but you might want to inform people of this next time.” The commander spoke in his usual pleasant tone, but Talltree noticed an undercurrent of annoyance.
“We, uh, only just installed it in the Rio Grande,” O’Brien added hesitantly.
Sisko smiled toothily. “We hadn’t tested it—until now, that is.”
“Fair enough,” Shabalala said, though he did not return Sisko’s smile. “Mr. Talltree, get over there with a security team—Mr. O’Brien, go with them.”
Talltree nodded. “Yes, sir.” They still didn’t know the captain’s fate, after all—this wasn’t over yet. He tapped his combadge as he headed toward the turbolift, O’Brien walking alongside. “DeNoux, Hyzy, report to Transporter Room 3.”
He then heard Odo’s voice from behind him. “Request permission to accompany the away team, Commander.”
After only a brief hesitation, the first officer said, “Granted.” Talltree almost objected, then decided he’d rather have Odo’s experience with Bajoran terrorists on his side.
The trio rode the turbolift in silence. Within minutes, they arrived at the transpor
ter room, DeNoux and Hyzy already present and armed and ready to go. The transporter chief handed out wristlamps, since there’d be no other light source until O’Brien could re-establish power on the runabout.
“On stun, people,” Talltree said as the five of them stepped on the platform. As his people and O’Brien set their phasers, Talltree noted that Odo wasn’t armed. To the transporter chief, he said, “Get the constable a phaser.”
“No need. I don’t carry weapons.”
“You don’t?” The idea of a security chief who went about unarmed was incomprehensible to Talltree.
“Trust me,” O’Brien said with a smile, “he doesn’t need one.”
Shrugging, Talltree said, “Suit yourself.”
“I always do,” Odo muttered.
“Energize.”
Although he had anticipated having to adjust from the brightness of the Odyssey transporter room to the darkness of the runabout, it still took Talltree’s eyes several seconds to adjust. Those seconds were, he knew, crucial given that they had no idea what to expect. Even with the runabout powered down, the artifact was interfering with sensors. They still only knew for sure that Lieutenant Dax and three other humanoids were on the runabout.
It quickly became apparent that none of them were in the fore compartment, where they had beamed in.
“What the hell is that?” O’Brien asked.
Talltree followed the path of O’Brien’s wristlamp to one of the side consoles. Talltree wasn’t completely familiar with runabout design, but he was fairly certain that a small black box attached to one of the consoles wasn’t standard.
“That’s probably the artifact,” he said. “I assume you want to disconnect it?”
“Definitely,” O’Brien said emphatically.
Smiling, Talltree said, “Get to work, then. DeNoux, stay with him. The rest of you, let’s check the aft—”
The security chief’s instructions were interrupted by a grunt of pain from the aft compartment.
“That sounded like Major Kira,” Odo said.
He had no idea how Odo could tell that from a muffled grunt, but Talltree wasn’t about to argue, either. “C’mon,” he said, and dashed toward the aft compartment, Odo and Hyzy right behind him.
Orta had not screamed when he watched his foster parents eliminated by Cardassian soldiers. He had not screamed when he was tortured on Cardassia. After that Obsidian Order agent cut his vocal cords, he couldn’t scream.
But when the Rio Grande went dark, mutilated throat notwithstanding, Orta screamed.
This can’t be. It was all in my grasp. It can’t go wrong now!
“It’s over, Orta,” came the hated voice of Kira Nerys.
Orta blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, to adjust to the darkness that the runabout had been plunged into. What could’ve gone wrong?
He reached out with his mind to the glorious weapon that had made all this possible. Why have you betrayed me?
Before he could get an answer, a fist collided with his jaw.
As he fell to the deck, he instinctively kicked with his left leg, and felt its impact against something soft. A female voice let out an “Oof!” in response.
“Damn you!” Orta said. Somehow he just knew the woman who attacked was Kira. The Trill didn’t have the skill to untie Orta’s knots. “You have ruined everything! You have betrayed Bajor!”
“I’m trying to help Bajor—help our people,” Kira said, sounding winded.
Orta clambered to his feet. “Then you’ll die for Bajor,” he said, running for the sound of her voice.
To his surprise, he was tackled from behind. “Not today,” Kira said.
As he and Kira fell to the deck once again, Orta cursed himself. Kira had deliberately spoken and then moved so he would go for the sound of her voice. He had then fallen for a similar trick—she had jumped him after locating him via his voice.
They rolled on the floor for a moment. Orta tried to land a punch, but failed. Kira, though, got a grip on his vocoder and ripped it off.
The pain was unimaginable. A small control would release the mechanism’s grip on the mutilated skin of his throat, but by simply tearing it off, Kira also removed a layer of that skin.
Again, Orta screamed, but this time no sounds emerged. Blood seeped from his neck.
You betrayed me! his mind screamed, both at Kira and at the device that should have been his salvation. You’re like all of them! Mother, Father, Syed, Starfleet, the provisional government—betrayers, all of them!
In his now-silent rage, Orta kicked at Kira, who was knocked off him by the impact.
The device’s oh-so-compelling voice sounded in his head. I can still give you what you want. You must kill this woman. It is the only way to accomplish your goals.
Orta stood, put a hand to his throat to stanch the bleeding, and smiled. He would kill Kira as he killed Syed and the Obsidian Order agent and so many others who stood in his way. They all had to die.
It was the only way…
As Jason Talltree entered the aft compartment, he shined his wristlamp inside. The first thing the beam fell on was the pleasant sight of Keogh in a chair. His arms were behind his back in such a way to lead Talltree to believe that they were tied together—but that was comparatively irrelevant. Talltree was just relieved to see him alive. “Captain!”
“Over there, Lieutenant!” Keogh said, just as Odo bellowed, “Kira!”
Before Talltree could turn to see what they were talking about, his attention was drawn by the thud of bodies crashing into a bulkhead. He shined his lamp to see two Bajoran figures struggling—one in a red Militia uniform, the other in civilian clothes.
“Stand back!” Odo said as Talltree drew his phaser. Talltree planned to just stun both of them and sort it out later, but Odo seemed to have something else in mind.
The shapeshifter made as if to throw something with his right hand, though that hand was empty. As his arm came around, it seemed to dissolve—in fact, it turned into a golden liquid and extended toward the scuffle. By the time the protrusion reached the non-Militia Bajoran, it looked like a length of rope tied into a lasso, which wrapped around the Bajoran’s left wrist.
Odo pulled his now-rather-long right arm downward, which yanked the Bajoran off the Militia woman. Talltree then fired his phaser at the Bajoran. He missed, as the Bajoran ducked—
—right into Hyzy’s shot, which stunned him.
Just as the Bajoran—whom Talltree realized had to be Orta—hit the deck, the lights came on. “Thank you, Chief,” Talltree muttered.
Talltree looked around and saw the Bajoran Militia woman—Major Kira—rubbing her wrists, and Keogh and Dax tied to chairs.
“Hyzy, take care of the captain and lieutenant, will you?” Talltree said.
Keogh was looking at Kira. “Major, how the hell did you get out of your bonds?”
She smiled. “Orta always tied a lousy knot.”
Talltree wasn’t sure, but he thought that Keogh got an unusually sour look—even by his high standards—at that.
“It’s good to see you alive, sir,” Talltree said to Keogh as Hyzy finished undoing his hands.
The security guard moved over to Dax while Keogh undid his feet. “It’s good to be seen,” the captain said. He undid his feet and stood up. “Major, would you mind explaining to me what the hell happened here?”
Before the major could reply, Shabalala’s voice sounded over the comm channel. “Shabalala to run-about. Report.”
Keogh went to an intercom on the wall and tapped it, his own combadge having gone missing. “This is Keogh. We’re all fine, Commander.”
“It’s very good to hear your voice, Captain. We were worried that you’d been killed.”
“Negative, Commander, though Mr. Rodzinski wasn’t so lucky. I’ll tell you all about it back on the ship. Tell the transporter room to prepare to beam us over.”
Chapter Fourteen
A FEW HOURS LATER, Keogh stood with Sisko
, Kira, and Shabalala in the shuttlebay of the Odyssey, the Galaxy-class ship’s own shuttles having been moved out of the way to make room for the larger Rio Grande. O’Brien had gone over the runabout to make sure that no further damage was done by Orta before being done in by the counter-Maquis program. The Odyssey was preparing to return its various passengers (including Orta, presently in the brig) and the artifact to Deep Space 9, then proceed to its scheduled patrol of the Cardassian border.
“I wish you’d told me about that little security program of yours, Commander,” Keogh said to Sisko, who held the Malkus Artifact, which had been recovered from the runabout. With a glance at Kira, he added, “It might’ve saved us all some embarrassment.”
“I am sorry about that, Captain,” Kira said, “but I couldn’t very well let Orta run loose, and I couldn’t clue you in without cluing him in as well.”
“Besides,” Sisko added with a smile, “I’m sure your bickering helped keep Orta in the dark—so to speak.”
Keogh grudgingly conceded the point. “Perhaps.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your chief engineer, Captain,” Sisko said in a quiet voice.
“Thank you,” Keogh said formally. He had already gone through the onerous duty of informing Rodzinski’s wife and daughter—both also Starfleet officers, presently serving on Starbase 12 and the U.S.S. Sugihara, respectively—of his death, and the bittersweet duty of promoting Kovac to lieutenant commander and giving him Rodzinski’s job.
“In any case,” Kira said, turning toward the run-about hatch, “I need to get back down to the moon and try to put things back together. I’ll see you all back at the station in a few days.”
Just as she started to walk toward the runabout, the artifact in Sisko’s hands—which had been glowing a slightly greenish color—suddenly let loose a quick burst of bright green light.
Then the glow disappeared altogether.
Keogh reacted immediately. “Computer, scan the shuttlebay for any anomalous readings and report.”
The Brave And The Bold Book One Page 19
